


Winter Wish

by Sauronix



Category: Suikoden V
Genre: Fluff, Holidays, Kissing, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5498270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/pseuds/Sauronix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy holidays! This is a Christmas fic. A syrupy, sentimental, feel-good Christmas fic. </p><p>Rahal gives the Cavalry a much-needed holiday for the winter solstice. In the empty castle, he waits for Roog to come home—but a looming snowstorm threatens their reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wish

The castle empties out quickly, after Rahal dismisses the last training drill of the day. For half an hour, the halls swell with laughter and boisterous teenage voices, with the clatter of luggage on flagstones, as recruits collect their belongings, bid their friends farewell, and leave for home. From the solitude of his office, through the frosted window, Rahal watches them go, until the steady stream slows to a trickle, until the trickle slows to a stop. Until the only movement in the courtyard is the fitful dance of snow caught on the wind. 

He doesn’t mind the stillness. It’s his fourth year as Commander, the fourth year he’s given his men leave for the winter solstice. Some of them come from far-flung places—places like Lordlake and Lelcar—and they’re grateful for the rare chance to visit their families. Those with no home to go to stay behind to man essential posts. 

“Commander.” He turns at the sound of Lun’s voice. She stands in the doorway, dressed in a fur-lined travelling cloak, a canvas travel bag slung over her shoulder. “I wanted to say bye before I left. You going to Rania’s for the holidays?”

Rahal shakes his head. “Rania’s travelling with her new beau. It’s just me this year.”

“Roog’s not coming home?”

“He said he was. But I’d be shocked if he made it here in this weather. It’s a long journey from Sol-Falena.”

Her eyes shift from his face to the wintery scene beyond the window. “Yeah. Looks like a blizzard’s on its way…”

“And you? Back to Raftfleet?” He changes the subject before she has the time to pity him.

“Nah. Pop’s got a sister in Doraat. We’re spending the holidays with her.” Lun wrinkles her nose. “My cousins are total brats and I really didn’t want to go, but Ma insisted. And she’s making a ham. She’s great at bribery.”

He smiles. “Say hello to them for me.”

“I will. Oh, hey, Commander…” She roots around in her bag and pulls out a small package wrapped in brown paper. It’s neatly tied with a purple ribbon. “I wanted you to have this. You know, as thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Lun.”

“It’s nothing special. I saw it and thought you’d like it. I picked it up on a whim.” She thrusts the package into his hands. “Happy holidays, Commander.”

He watches her leave, too, and the silence entombs him. His every breath sounds harsh in his ears. The heat of it fogs up the pane of glass in front of him. He opens Lun’s gift and finds a tassel for his sword, made with a long blue feather. 

When the sun sets, he lights candles in all the windows. He doesn’t know where Roog is, whether he’ll even make it to Sauronix tonight—but if he does, Rahal wants the warm glow to welcome him. It’s something for him to latch onto in the darkness. A beacon to guide him home, back to Rahal.

He gets out the eggnog and brandy and sets them on his desk. Sitting, he stares at them both. There’s nothing he’d like more than a drink right now, but there’s nothing he likes less than drinking alone. The rest of his office is cold. In the adjoining room, through the half-cracked doorway, he sees his bed with the sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like him, it waits, maybe for nothing.

He passes the evening cleaning out his desk. Stubs of pencils, Craig’s old papers, a bundle of letters he’s kept since Roog went away four years ago. He unwinds the string that secures them and unfolds the first one. Roog’s stilted, barely-legible scrawl leaps off the page.

 _It’s weird here_. _‘Yes sir’ this, ‘yes ma’am’ that. The castle chef called me ‘Master Roog’ yesterday. I know they only do it cause it’s my proper title and all, but shit, man, it’s a little much for me. You’d probably love it though._

Rahal smiles and picks up the next.

_Okay, okay, you’re right. The Sun Palace isn’t that bad. They had this buffet yesterday and you should’ve seen the cream puffs. Actually, you should have tasted the cream puffs. I never want to leave this place again._

And then the most recent, only two weeks old: 

_I’ll be home for the solstice. I can’t wait to see you._

He closes his eyes and brings the letter to his lips. He’s missed him. He always misses him. Sometimes he forgets just how much, until he’s alone with his thoughts and it hits him all over again that Roog’s not in Sauronix anymore.

He glances at the clock, then out the window. It’s ten minutes to midnight and the snow still falls steadily. He sighs and collects the letters, puts them back in the drawer. He should do his rounds and turn in for the night. The brandy still sits on his desk, untouched. 

He goes from room to room, blowing out each of the candles he’d lit, and does a tour of the courtyard. Nick stands watch at the gate, leaning against the wall in the shadowed postern. He nods at Rahal as he approaches.

“Commander,” he says.

He offers Rahal a sip from his flask. Rahal takes it and sniffs the contents. Whiskey. “You’re not even eighteen yet, Nick, and you’re on duty. I should confiscate this.”

“C’mon, Commander, I’ve gotta stand here all night, and it’s the holidays. Can’t you take that stick out of your butt for one night?”

Rahal should reprimand him, first for drinking on the job, next for his insubordination. But he doesn’t. Nick has always been a challenge, and he’s not like other recruits. He was a comrade-in-arms during the war, always there to watch Rahal’s back. There’s no need to keep up appearances here, not when it’s just the two of them. So he only hands back the flask with a stern look.

“That stick up my butt is what will keep us alive if we’re attacked,” he says. 

“Oh, please. Who’s going to attack us?”

“No one. I’m just a man of principle.”

Nick snorts. “You should take it easy tonight, Commander. You need a break. I’ll sound the alarm if the barbarian hordes come beating down our door.”

He’s a good kid, no matter his shortcomings. “I’m doing the rounds,” Rahal assures him, “and then I’m turning in for the night.”

“No Roog?” He looks at Rahal out of the corner of his eye.

Rahal shakes his head. “No. The weather must have kept him in Sol-Falena.”

“Sorry to hear that, Commander.”

“Me too.” Rahal claps him on the shoulder and manages a smile. “Happy solstice, Nick. Take the day off tomorrow. I’ll send someone to relieve you in the morning.”

He raises his flask, and Rahal goes back to the castle, down the dark stairs to the stables. It’s his last stop of the night. With the snuffling and snoring and gentle gronking of dragon horses, he feels less alone. He checks on the occupants of each stall, pausing only when he comes to Flail. She whickers when she sees him, pushing her warm, damp snout into the palm of his hand. He rests his cheek against her forehead and strokes her soft neck. Her breath steams in the cold air.

“At least we still have each other, eh, girl?” he murmurs. 

She gronks and nuzzles his hair.

“Well, isn’t this touching?”

Roog’s voice comes from the darkness at the other end of the stables. Rahal starts and looks up slowly, his hand still buried in Flail’s mane, to see Roog closing the gate of Lance’s pen. He has a travel pack slung over his shoulder. Beads of melting snow shimmer on the smooth planes of his skull. He must have arrived just before Rahal.

“You’re here,” Rahal says.

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late.” Roog saunters over and scratches Flail under the chin, laughing when her eyes go heavy-lidded in pleasure. “It was slow-going just before Port Spinacks. But I pushed through.” He glances at Rahal, sees the shock on his face. “I told you I’d be here. You didn’t believe me?”

“It’s after midnight. I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

“Geez, this isn’t the welcome I was expecting. I was hoping for a hug at the very least. You want me to go back?”

“No. No. Runes, no.”

Rahal doesn’t know who moves first. He only knows that he’s suddenly in Roog’s arms, that they’re clinging fast to each other, that he never wants to let Roog go again. He buries his face in Roog’s neck. He’s warm and solid. He smells like soap and sweat, like leather and dragon horses.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he growls in Rahal’s ear. 

“Me too,” Rahal whispers. 

“Eight months is too long.”

“Yes.”

“Can we go inside?”

“Please.”

They pull apart, reluctantly, and finish closing up Flail’s pen. On the walk back to his chambers, he can’t tear his eyes away from Roog. There are new lines at the corners of his mouth, between his eyebrows. His tan is deeper than ever. His skin’s a dark brown, and his teeth shine like the smooth white belly of a seashell whenever he smiles. He’s slimmed down since the last time Rahal saw him, too. His thick rider’s thighs strain and flex with every step.

Rahal aches for him.

“Brandy and eggnog. Nice,” Roog says when they reach Rahal’s quarters. He drops his bag just inside the door and makes a beeline for the desk. “I could use a drink.” He pours a bit of each into two glasses. He hands one to Rahal and holds up his own. “How about a toast?”

“To what?”

“To us. To coming home. To not leaving bed unless the castle’s on fire,” he says.

Rahal smirks. “Can’t argue with that.”

They clink their glasses together and toss back the contents. Then Roog tugs Rahal into his arms again, his lips trailing kisses through his hair, until Rahal tilts his head back and meets Roog’s mouth with his own. He tastes sweet. His stubble scratches Rahal’s chin. Rahal wraps his arms around Roog’s neck and lets himself be swept away. 

Outside, the snow falls.


End file.
